


His Butler, Gambler of Death

by axumun



Category: Kingdom Hearts, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axumun/pseuds/axumun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>(Every Organization member preferred a heart with a certain dominant emotion. Xaldin's favorite was the bitter-cinnamon headrush of hatred, while Marluxia used to crave canvas-white innocence. Luxord's ideal heart would belong to someone of sharp mind and tongue. Intelligence was his favorite distraction.)</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Butler, Gambler of Death

While a freshly-lit candle burned in one hand's grasp, the fingers of the other treaded carefully, chastely across the cheek of his newest visitor. 

As he washed and prepared linens for the burial, he pondered the gaping wound running across her chest. It wouldn't take a mortician's education to tell that her heart was missing. Statuesque in her casket, she evoked an aura like the presence of evil lurking in an unpleasant silence.

Undertaker considered every possible instrument that could've done the job, narrowing it to something sharp but imprecise - like claws. The murderer didn't strike with medical precision, but though the injury was sloppy, the rest of the woman's skin was unblemished, unscarred.

"Not a thoughtless end, but nonetheless a driven one," he mused. "Purposeful, but inhuman, and most bizarre."

Despite the joy it brought him, solving mysteries wasn't quite a part of Undertaker's job description. Still, an indecisiveness gripped him as he inked his quill to solidify the maiden's cause of death: blood loss, surely, yet...not quite. This guest was even emptier than the others, as if her soul, her very _being_ had been unwritten. She was a shell, as if she hadn't lived at all.

This thought troubled him. Thousands of years, thousands of burials and lives flashing before him...but this one eluded him. He had to move on to the next guest just to give himself time to figure this one out, put her to rest properly.

*

"It's positively _crawling_ with inhabitants. Pompous, ignorant people. A swarm of maggots. I say the risk of exposure isn't worth the hearts we'll reap."

"Luxord." Saix shot a glare to the couch that Demyx was sprawled across, and like usual, no one could tell if it was a warning or a congratulation. "Number nine actually proved something to us not long ago. He showed us that interaction with the outside is occasionally useful. After all, you're perhaps the most flexible among our remaining ranks. Take caution, but do not cut the ties."

The gambler nodded absentmindedly. He had a feeling he was in for an awful mission upon his return to London.

Then again...maybe that butler held the key to pleasing his superiors.

"Heart collection with Roxas tomorrow," Saix provided, with a dismissive glance. "Be grateful that I told you in advance."

~

_Though the world he'd been assigned was a densely populated city stretching for miles, Luxord's first visit landed him in a towering, elaborate mansion. The attention to detail in every chandelier candle and every fiber of wallpaper was an obvious symbol of wealth that should've impressed Luxord, but the pretention just made him want to gag._

_Though the city streets were noticeably more grimy, the air of self-indulgence never left. It was in the way people carried themselves despite the heavy stench of blood and sweat and sulfur saturating every corner._

_Luxord's saving grace came to him in the ghost of a conscience - only people with hearts had those full time - which urged him not to RTC early despite the discomfort and sense of pointlessness that it brought him. He ended up returning to the mansion, which at least smelled better than the commercial area._

_It was then, as he peered from a shadowy corner, that he noticed the unplaceable aura of the butler. He was different from the rest of London - still proud, but sensible. Instantly charming, yet obviously dangerous. Certainly, Luxord thought, a strong heart brimming with wit, lush with darkness._

_(Every Organization member preferred a heart with a certain dominant emotion. Xaldin's favorite was the bitter-cinnamon headrush of hatred, while Marluxia used to crave canvas-white innocence. Luxord's ideal heart would belong to someone of sharp mind and tongue. Intelligence was his favorite distraction.)_

_Though Luxord was a relatively new member - even more recently inducted than Demyx - he knew that the secret to reigning in a heart was finding its weakness. He also knew that weaknesses were easy to find, with a little patience._

_"Young Master," the butler called, half-tender and half-conescending, "our supper is done. The guests are due in half an hour, and they have suggestions for future toy models, so I would avise you to be open to their suggestions, if only for the sake of courtesy - "_

_An ashen-haired boy who walked with a cane approached from a doorway Luxord couln't see. "I'd rather you be my notetaker, Sebastian," he returned. "I'm no good at things of that sort. Besides, my handwriting is terrible."_

_"Yes, my Lord," Sebastian replied, quite casually but with a definite sense of indefinite loyalty. "Shall I arrange to help you with practicing this skill? You'll certainly need it one day."_

_"Don't bother," the boy answered. "We're too cramped this week to focus on such petty things."_

_There it is, Luxord thought to himself. It was in the way Seastian's eyes softened as he made even a trivial oath, the way his shoulders straightened even further when the child approached: his Master was his weakness._

 

~

 

Near-silent footsteps treaded down the hallway, lacking an echo. The butler himself barely possessed a presence - only his master could feel him near.

"Young Master," Sebastian called gently. "We've received an import of a new blend of Italian tea. What shall I prepare as a complement?"

As his question lingered at the door of Ciel's chamber, a grotesquely human feeling of deja-vu passed over Sebastian and made him wince. He caught a glimpse of the windows: left ajar with the curtains fluttering. 

Ah, his Young Lord, such a damsel at the worst of times. But long as Sebastian exterminated Ciel's kidnapper by noon, his schedule for the day would be blissfully unchanged.

It was in the next few moments that the hushed roar of pooling darkness - unfamiliar to Sebastian despite his rather permanent residence in Hell - surrounded him. A strange, eerie blackness filled the hallway, quickly morphing into a laughable approximation of a human, complete with a head, torso, and twitching limbs. They scrambled to-and-fro, as if they didn't sense the butler nearby.

Sebastian instantly felt something evil within them - an evil both similar to and different from his own. Their darkness shared an emptiness, a longing. Nonetheless, they were a threat, and he had a feeling that they were at least partly responsible for his Master's disappearance.

Knives dismembered them easily, though they did not fall. They simply faded into the air, like a mist. Sebastian brushed off their strange design and returned to contemplating Ciel's whereabouts. 

Except...something was wrong. He couldn't feel Ciel. He wasn't anywhere in London. The small, familiar voice that so often commanded Sebastian was silent. Their bond - deep and unchanging as the lowest pits of Hell - had unraveled.

An unfamiliar uneasiness pooled in the butler's stomach. Ciel wasn't dead. He'd know for sure if that was the case. The culprit wasn't Death; it was as if Ciel had simply _ceased to exist_.

There was only one acquaintance in his repetoire who knew more about death than he did.

*

When Sebastian strolled into Undertaker's shop, the reaper was dressing a body. While this wasn't in any way unusual, the corpse gave off a distressing presence - or lack thereof: a dark emptiness, like the creatures that had appeared in the mansion.

Undertaker felt Sebastian nearby despite his silence. He greeted the butler heartily without pausing his work, only stopping and turning when he felt that Sebastian was uncharacteristically upset about something (though his face would never reveal it).

Sebastian nodded cordially, despite the lack of true formality. "Undertaker, have you seen my Young Master this morning?"

" 'fraid not, 'ave you lost the child?" Undertaker chuckled. When he shifted, Sebastian caught a glimpse of his guest's mortal wound: a gaping hole where a heart once was.

"Have you been seeing anything...strange?" Sebastian nodded once toward the body. "I imagine you don't see that every day."

By now, the reaper had resumed his duty. "Now, now," Undertaker cooed, "you must be so busy, when's the last time you caught a wink? Take a rest here, there's sure to be a coffin 'round just your size! 'm sure your Earl is near, may just be entering a rebellious streak. They're prone to running away at this age, but he'll be here, I'm - "

"Undertaker," Sebastian interrupted, "I don't need sleep. I need your knowledge."

Undertaker pulled a chair from a seemingly-empty corner and urged Sebastian to sit.

When Sebastian informed him of the state of his Contract, Undertaker was visibly distraught. Although when he combined this knowledge with the corpses that had rolled into his shop recently, a light softly flickered.

"Lately I've had a rather peculiar shadow," Undertaker said.

"You've seen the creatures as well?"

"Seen them? I've had them for tea!" The reaper cackled loudly. "I haven't a clue where they've come from, but I've taken my share of notes. The beauty of them is that they're still human, in a way. They have Cinematic Records. Some even have distinct faces if you look close. But they're searching for something; if the lucidity of my guests holds any connection, I'd say they want hearts. Interesting entities, those."

"And Ciel?"

Undertaker's face drooped completely, like an abandoned puppy, "I'm afraid your Master may share the fate of my guests, Sebastian. Your Contract is over. You're free."

Sebastian's eyes widened as every molecule of his insides turned to ice. 

Fate.

Free.

_Master_.

When he dared to glance back to Undertaker, he was unsure what he was seeking - comfort? direction? a 'bright side' lecture? - but whatever it was, he got nothing. The reaper's face was frozen in a pitying frown that didn't quite have a place among his features.

"Undertaker?" No response. The clocks, the outlying streets, the quiet hum of life itself were all dead silent. _Empty_ silent.

Sebastian rose from his chair like a lightning bolt, lost and grieving for the first time since occupying a body. He was gripped in a rush - scary and thoughtless and _human_.

An undulating black portal appeared - the only movement Sebastian could detect for miles. 

Two leather-clad men emerged. The shorter one seemed out of place, inwardly wishing to be elsewhere. The taller, however, held the slight, squirming form of his Master close, a gloved hand clamped over his mouth.

Sebastian growled at the men, though he realized he wasn't as intimidating as usual when he felt himself trembling. He lunged for Ciel almost instinctually, as the boy's one visible eye screamed a chorus of silent, murderous commands.

Luxord deftly grabbed the butler's wrist, which froze him completely; he obviously wasn't used to being retaliated against. A human target would have just gazed in horror, maybe screamed a bit or even prayed. But this cloaked man was no human - no demon, no angel, no reaper...He was empty, but not evil. He was the epitome of nothingness.

Sebastian barely deflected a blow from Roxas's blade. He glanced back to Undertaker, who still hadn't moved a muscle. When he bought a spare second, he glanced at his pocketwatch, whose hands were still.

"Though our paths haven't crossed as of yet, and I have something you hold dear, there's only one thing you should know about me: I play for all or nothing. I challenge you, Butler. Beat me at my own game, my own rules, and your Lord returns to you. Lose? Both of your hearts belong to us."

Sebastian had regained his composure upon rationalizing that Ciel was alive and could be saved. He even managed a chuckle. "I'm terribly sorry to inform you that he holds the only heart between us."

Luxord's eyes widened minutely. A man who possessed such charm. such emotion, had no heart? 

"Although," Sebastian continued, "games are something I excel at. I just ask that when you lose, you take these shadows back with you. And, keep it brief. If I'm not prepared for brunch by noon, my schedule will be ruined."

Luxord gripped Roxas's right wrist, which still held his Keyblade, and held it toward the sky. Roxas's eyes were visibly clouded, unseeing. 

"All the same. Say, I'll even up the stakes. You get to test a new game." With his free hand, he dug a deck of cards from his pocket and swept them over the keyblade, then guided Roxas's arm swiftly down as if cutting something in half.

Sebastian's vision seemed to double, and one side blurred until nothing substantial could be seen within it. Sebastian, who was rather immune to illusion, focused on Luxord, altough both Ciel and Roxas were gone. As the edges blurred, even Luxord faded into nothing.

Since Sebastian wasn't exactly prone to mortal inflictions like migraines or stomachaches, the lightheadedness that ensued was like a slap in the face. He wasn't sure what to do with it, or if it was just a prelude to a more painful stigma. He lost his balance and felt himself tipping in slow motion, but he couldn't find the floor.

Death-cold hands gently propped Sebastian up again. The butler's vision finally cleared, and Undertaker was smiling again. Smiling at him.

Sebastian shook his head. The edges of his vision were still blurred. It wasn't real. Undertaker was still sitting in his chair, which only _appeared_ empty...

"You need your rest," Undertaker said, with vivid concern. His head cocked to the side slightly, waiting for a response. "You don't look well. And you can rest assured that when you awake, your Master will be safe."

Sebastian squinted against the pounding in his head. He searched through a rising fog for the real Undertaker's chair, but he'd stalled for too long. The fog and the pain dissipated as if it had been sucked into a vaccuum. Sebastian was lying in a coffin, padded with rich velvet and undeniably comfortable. When he tried to rise, it did about as much good as a fly struggling in a spiderweb.

Undertaker's tender hands were back on his shoulders, as if settling him in. The simple contact was strangely soothing, melding with the lullabies Undertaker whispered in his ear; "Never get a moment of respite, do you? Never a minute to kick back, Master's run you ragged. Always the perfect one."

Those same careful fingers - masters of their craft - graced Sebastian's eyelids, which fell swiftly closed despite the demon's inner questioning. Game? Where was the game? 

Despite his attempts at awakening himself and coming to his senses, his inhibitions were slipping. The Contract was pulsing again, in time with Ciel's heartbeat. _He_ was safe, at least. As long as Sebastian was sure of that, what harm could a little sleep do? 

*

Demons never dreamed of Earth. The subconscious minds of even longtime-Earthbound demons drifted beyond the scope of mortal existence when they were relaxed.

This was the first time in ages that Sebastian had allowed himself to break this chain of thought.

Except...he couldn't control these dreams like usual.He was a master of unlocking the doors of his own mind within his dreamscape - he could even do the same to Ciel, when he wished - but here, he had nomore control over what he saw than an average human would. He was feeling deploringly human today.

Sebastian would normally have chosen to explore his memories of a time before the bondage of a mortal body restricted any free will. He wanted to imagine crawling into a fire pit, bathing in light and heat and destruction where no one could find him and nothing could touch him. He cherished these memories the way children carry treasured memories of friends and pets and family gatherings. Heat was comfort. Flame was protection. 

Instead, Sebastian saw himself in a gloomy stone corridor, thick with fog and blessed warmth. He still possessed his human form, which felt encumbering in what was supposed to be his respite, his liberation.

In the center of this strange room was - who else? - Undertaker, clothed in robes a touch more elaborate than his usual work clothes. They were still charcoal-colored, though they were decorated with satin and lace adornments that somehow didn't cross into femininity, which might've distracted Sebastian from Undertaker's silent offer.

The reaper had closed in and extended his hand, an innocent invitation. As Sebastian reciprocated, slowly closing the distance between their fingers, a dull sound like a far-off siren echoed in the distance. Sebastian's vision melted into candle-wax pastels, but he had given over to illusion now.

He felt himself dancing - he was twirling, feet keeping perfect time while his hand never fell out of contact with that of the reaper - but the stone corridor was gone. A landscape full of exploding stars and tendrils of soft light had replaced the gray mist, bursting with colors so vibrant that Sebastian was sure he could taste them if he gazed long enough.

Undertaker lead the dance as Sebastian looked around in awe, like a small child. The reaction made Undertaker giggle in the moment before he took Sebastian by the waist and - with little effort, almost as if the butler had lost touch with gravity - hoisted him into the air.

In a moment there was no ground beneath him. Undertaker was floating beside Sebastian as an entire lifetime played before his eyes - the beauty and wonder of the planet that he rarely got to see from the Phantomhive manor. He was witnessing the miracles that existed just beyond human reach.

"That's it," Undertaker whispered, as if speaking up would break the spell. "Watch closely, dear; this is your world."

Sebastian inhaled deeply, composing himself. "But why?" he breathed. "What is this for?"

Undertaker giggled again, then tugged on the butler's hand once more, pulling him into another dance. "I want to teach you to love your humanity."

In the next moment, a piercing filled Sebastian's ears, like a room full of breaking glasses, and his vision split again. Through one side, he saw Luxord, still holding Ciel, limp but living.

"You've lost your poker face," Luxord said, almost to himself. "This is your true weakness, not the boy. He's merely a pawn, is he not? A stepping stone to your ultimate reward?"

Luxord tossed a hand of cards in the butler's direction, their blinding speed honing a razor sharp edge that nicked Sebastian's arm despite his evasion. The butler deftly tossed a steak knife from his sleeve, which Luxord easily dodged. "Really, for such a charmer, could you be _more_ cliche?"

Sebastian charged, fully intent on immobilizing Luxord and retrieving Ciel. Luxord, to Sebastian's confusion, didn't even blink. Despite sensing a trick, Sebastian poked a pressure point in the gambler's neck that would've put a human in an instant coma, but he didn't budge.

Even more confused, Sebastian made a last split-second attempt at wrestling Ciel from Luxord's arms, but a line of giant cards sent him reeling backwards.

Once Sebastian landed back on his feet, Luxord scoffed, "The real game's beginning. The warm up was a treat; a sort of thank you for being so entertaining."

With the lift of a finger, Luxord closed Sebastian's vision of him so that he could only see Undertaker - still dancing in the dreamscape - who quickly pulled him into a waltz.

Sebastian reluctantly followed the reaper's steps, keeping his ears and eyes sharp for an ambush. Luxord did appear, without posing any immediate threat; he simply watched as the butler and the oblivious Undertaker danced.

The deck of cards in Luxord's hands didn't go unnoticed. He was shuffling it out of habit. "I'm going to pick a card," Luxord said - quietly, though his voice reverberated throughout Sebastian's subconscious projection. "Your part is painfully, pitifully simple. Except, there's one tiny twist."

Once Luxord drew his card, he faded into a black mist. A roulette of cards created a roulette around Sebastian and Undertaker - still casually keeping time with a silent song - and though their suits were showing, they were spinning too rapidly to be accurately read.

Luxord's voice echoed again: "Pick my card. Go on, shoot it down with that aptly-placed cutlery of yours. Just be aware that every other card now embodies your Master."

Sebastian watched the roulette carefully, brushing off Undertaker's caressing fingers and occasional soft praises - _so nimble, so quick, such majesty_. The butler had become even more infatuated with besting his bearded adversary than rescuing Ciel, now that he wasn't in imminent danger.

Since his eyes couldn't deceive him, he could still see the suits, though that didn't help with his decision. 

Sebastian considered what little he knew about the gambler - for one thing, he had a rather peculiar relationship with human hearts. And, despite his own accusations, Luxord seemed hopelessly predictable. That narrowed his options to thirteen, just on a hunch. Then again...something about Luxord screamed a preference for face cards. Down to four.

"An astounding butler, a beauty beyond redemption," Undertaker crooned. "The Joker and the King - "

The King was too obvious, and neither the Knave nor Joker seemed representative of Luxord's taste. The Queen? The Queen was perfect.

Sebastian sought the Queen of Hearts with an assassin's precision and pinned her towering card with a salad fork. Only then did the dreamscape melt away (though Undertaker did not), revealing Luxord, Roxas, and blessedly, Ciel - the latter of which was awake and struggling violently against Luxord's hold.

The gambler didn't seem fazed. "If I am anything, I'm honorable," he muttered, freeing Ciel, who had been biting Luxord's sleeve. He scuttled to Sebastian's side by default.

"Sebastian, don't let them out of your sight," Ciel ordered. "I want them incarcerated!"

Before the butler could even offer a, 'Yes, my Lord'; "As flatterered as I would be to play a role in your legal system, I'm afraid little Roxas and I must depart," Luxord mused, opening a portal.

"Wait," Roxas said, finally finding the guts to speak up, "that's it? You're giving up? We didn't collect any hearts! Saix is gonna fry us!"

Luxord made a _shhhh_ -ing gesture. "This is not giving up..." He began to lead Roxas into the inter-dimension.

"SEBASTIAN!" Ciel gave his butler a half-hearted push toward the escaping convicts.

"Don't worry, Young Master," Sebastian replied calmly. "I assure you they won't be back."

Sebastian then directed his attention to Undertaker, who wore his usual smile out of fondness rather than macabre amusement. "How much...was real?"

The reaper almost blushed, which was of extreme biological interest to Sebastian. "My dear, you're a demon. Illusion doesn't faze you."

*

"That was not giving up," Luxord began as he initiated the RTC. "That was learning my place within a society dictated by riches and famed precedants."

"Whaaaa....?"

Luxord hmphed. "I was outsmarted. Outdone. That butler was a threat to our heart collection and our secrecy."

"Only because you talked to him!"

"Only because Fate lead me to his mansion." Luxord grinned. "We were meant to cross paths."

"Luxord, Roxas," Saix greeted coldly. He was holding a chart and writing busily. "What was your total today?"

"Love," Luxord said, "if you pay attention to mortal passtimes."

Roxas sighed. "I...I think he means we didn't collect any hearts, sir."

Saix's eyes flared with something emptier than rage. "Dare you excuse why?"

"Is is imperative to the safety of this Organization that we do not conduct heart collection in London due to a threatening presence - "

"Rubbish. I shouldn't have asked. If we cross any more worlds off our agenda we'll be out of options in no time."

"Luxord," Roxas murmured, "why do you pretend everything is a gamble? We coulda had a bunch of hearts if you didn't - "

"Why pretend the very air you breathe isn't placing bets against you, my boy?" Luxord sauntered off before he could further incriminate himself in Saix's presence.


End file.
